Rune Factory: I Dream of Norad
by Dark Glass01
Summary: Revival/Rebirth: Born and bred in the Empire's industrial heartland, a young Sech citizen finds his only connection to the wider world in books and his unusually vivid dreams. As he reaches out in curiosity, however, he finds that his newest round of dreams might me more then they appear... and that the pain of reality is not quite as thick as he imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note: Honesty; this story is actually a reboot of another, long-abandoned project as part of a wider clean-up/resurrection of my Fanfiction writing. I hope this doesn't unduly turn anybody away.**

 **Chp. I: A Son of Sechs**

 _Far into the mainland, far from the sound of crashing waves, the elegant canals of Water city, and pleasant wilderness of Trampoli, lies a city nature forgot._

 _Tales are told of it about the fire of small villages, yes; tales which grown wilder and more fantastic the farther out into the wilderness one goes. Tales of glittering towers of stone, the hustle and bustle of tens of thousands of people, and the wondrous contraptions constructed there, things the local blacksmith could only dream of building. Lights which burned brightly throughout the night, and the vastness of the riches that could be found there. A place of great magicians, tinkerers, and nobility, many children would take it into their dreams at night, hoping one day they could scrape together the money to view its majesty. To them, nowhere on earth could possibly be better._

 _Of course, like all other bedtime stories, the luster of these dreams quickly faded when the truth was known. In truth, the city was less of a glittering gemstone and more a heart of beating iron, its lights not gold but the ruddy red of ash and smelted iron. Its great towers of stone spewed smoke into the air to blanket the streets in a perpetual cloud and the people in a black coat. Its wheels never ceased to turn: foundries ringing and furnaces blazing for endless years, seeing many faces come and go, to turn out the wonders of metalwork and electricity; all the appliances and equipment that bettered the lives of man the continent over. The people went about in thankless obscurity, living their lives as best they could among the squalor and stink. It was the ultimate sacrifice; a place where man has condemned himself to never see the sky for the advancement of his people._

 _The name of that city is Ceolbald. Its people had no name. After all, how could the monolith to the Sechs way of life be built of anything but the faceless, soul-dead drones Noradians imagined them as? They were little more than parts in that vast clockwork contraption, pieces to be used, worn, and replaced. A cog needs no name, nor a piston. They possessed a purpose, assigned by the faceless lords of hunger and gold, which most dejectedly accepted: never knowing what lay beyond the smog that coated their city._

 _And, to those who did not accept, all they could do was dream._

 _One of these cog's name was Calab._

* * *

In the western districts of Ceolbald, where the air was scalding to the skin and a tone of watery grey, there was a small factory. There was nothing to distinguish it from any other factory in the area: the same lifeless and rough concrete walls, same boxy shape, and precisely four stories in height with a pair of blackened smokestacks. At exactly 7:00 every morning, just like in every other district, the shrill shriek of the work whistles could be heard at each of their doors, where the downtrodden men, with their stained overalls and lunch pails, waited sleepily for that call. Great gates, wrought in curved design from black iron, would swing open, another group of men, backs and eyes slouching from their labor, marching out and past them, the two groups hardly acknowledging the other's existence. The men would report to their little two by two foot tile, beige underneath the iron dust and ash, and set about cutting this part, or attaching that part, to whatever was coming down the line, the next 12 hours repeating that precise action, numbing the brain until their brief, 15 minute lunch break at precisely noon. Then, when the clock hit exactly 7:00 at night, they would leave their two foot square, march off to the gate, and pass the same men who had left them that morning, again never looking their way.

Some would drink the pain away. They never seemed to run out of cheap alcohol, anywhere, and like as not any family would have one member who got piped every night. Others gambled with anything they could get their hands on; cloths, scrap, even free labor from their children or wives. Sporting, fighting, magicians, and every lowly pleasure one could imagine was open to them, should they still have the energy to enjoy it. Of course, no matter how well their escape worked, at 7:00 AM they would once again be there at the twisted gates, awaiting their place and their task.

Calab was 20, and he built Steamers.

* * *

Each day, he awoke at exactly 5:50 AM, as a force of habit. Pulling himself out of his torn, common as dirt pine green cot, he would stretch out the stiffness from his muscles, lean as they were. He would pass the four other cots in the same room, two of which would still be full, and head to the wash basin, where he would thick water and rinse as much of the grim out of his matted, dirty blond hair. He would then throw on an off-brown pair of overalls, apply his tooth powder, and settle down for a brief moment. His breakfast consisted of pickled turnip, boiled spinach, or corn meal, depending on the season, and he'd fill up his lunch pail before, like everybody else, he hustled to the factory, waiting among the faceless mass for his place.

However, if you had seen him there, there would have been something just a little different about him. It was is posture, not quite as slouched over as the rest. Or his eyes, the emerald green crisp and clear beside the clouded look of others. He went in with the rest, took his spot, and preformed is function; managing a mold which made Steamer tops. He ate with everybody else, worked just as long, and left at the same time. But he was not hopeless.

Calab was opening up the lead mold for what must have been the thousandth time that day, fingers deftly flipping open the latches and removing yet another rounded, iron dome that would top somebody's steamer. He placed it onto the conveyer belt, the metal still slightly hot to the touch, his other hand twisting the faucet for another bath of ice water, the cold liquid flooding out of the piping and filling the area around the mold, as a stream of molten metal dripped down from above, filling in the vessel again. It was a constant cycle; the metal came down hot, the water cold, only to make the metal cool and solid and the water hot steam. He'd grown used to the feeling over the past few years, however, so it was only a dull burning, the leather coverings he wore keeping his skin well protected. In half a minute, he knew the top would be ready again, but until then, he was free.

However, even as he waited, the sound he'd been hoping for came. Strong and sharp, the whistle rang through the complex, a song to everybody's ears. The metal stopped dripping, the water running, and after emptying it one final time, the mold stood empty, for a time.

His spirit bolstered, Calab walked swiftly and solidly past the work stations, outpacing his coworkers quite well. He passed half-made ovens and huge coils of wire, and the people who had made them. Yet, he didn't pay any attention, smiling as he went along. Indeed, he actually whistled softly to himself, as he approached the gates, giving a smile to the entering laborers. None of them returned the gesture.

"Mother!" he swung open the door to the tenement, taking a deep, visible breath. "I'm home!"

There were two people in the room at the time; his mother Ellie and sister Rain. Ellie stood over the kitchen counter, though it was a generous term for the chipped wood slab, her hands busy on a pile of turnips. She was a bit heavyset, not aging particularly well, but still had a soft face and deep, blue eyes. Her dress was spun wool, heavily patched and grey, but it went with her skin quite well, and she never complained. "Well," she smiled as she looked at him, scratching at an itch he had on his arm. "You look in good spirits today. Did you get a pay raise?" Those last words lighting up her eyes.

He chuckled lightly, moving his hand up to rub at the shoulder. "Hardly," he watched as her eyes went back down… a familiar sight. "Don't worry though. It's not like I'm going to be on the bottom floor forever. Father isn't." His face turned to look over at the girl in the corner, huddled up next to the threadbare couch. "And how's my little sweetling doing?" He traveled over to her, that milky white face turning to him with a wide-eyed warmth.

"Big bruda!" she raised herself, standing a little bellow five feet; well over a head under him. She was 15 years old, soon to be 16, but you wouldn't know it if somebody told you about her. She wore a baby blue dress, white and frilly as was fashionable. She didn't dream of cloths, jewels, or boys like other girls her age did, though; her passions where coloring, make-believe, and her dolls; a well-kept elf princess with cascading blonde hair in her hand right then. It was almost as if she was still a child… but it wasn't as though he minded. Her shining strawberry blond hair, loosely wrapped in pigtails, signaled love and energy. However, right now she was gripping herself around his chest, snuggling in.

"That's quite enough." Ellie snapped at her, voice crisp and clear. "Get off your brother. Seriously," she turned over to him, reaching for another turnip as she slid the prepared slices into a bowl. "Calab, you need to stop supporting that kind of behavior. How will she ever find a good husband if she never learns to grow up." A sigh came from her lips, elbows resting on the counter as if exhausted.

"But mama!" She whined, looking over while gripping at him tighter. "Boys are icky! I don't wanna marry them. Big bruda," she looked up, begging. "Stop her."

"Mother, let the girl be." He patted her lightly on the head, slowly letting her back to the floor and draping his arm about her shoulder. "I'm sure she'll grow out of it in time. Not every girl has to marry at exactly 18 you know." He gave her a knowing look, settling himself into the chair. "You think Dad's on his way home?" He asked hopefully, trying to steer away the conversation, the salty stench of pickled turnip starting to making his stomach rumble. He'd almost forgotten how hungry he was, his mind wandering this way and that.

"Most likely," she pulled herself back up, realizing she had one more portion to prepare. "I did ask him to stop by the taphouse to pick up a bottle, though, so he may stay for a beer." On that note, the room became quiet and peaceful, Rain cuddling up into his side.

Reaching over, Calab picked up the book beside him, lain closed since the last night. On the cover was a vast ship, sails whiter than the overseers' handkerchiefs, cutting through high waves on the open seas. _The Voyage of the Red Reavers_ , it was titled, a copy he'd picked up with his Summer bonus. It would be winter soon, he thought, before flipping open to his last page, clearing his throat, and reading aloud to the little girl next to him.

"The sun broke through the clouds as Captain Ezekial returned to the deck, his horn pointed north the approaching island. The smells of fresh bread and trees wafted over from the landmass, and in his heart, he knew this with the Fenith Island he was looking for…"

This was his second favorite thing in the world.

* * *

Dinner was always a very awkward time for the family.

Granted, it was the one point during their hectic days that, at least for a brief time, they could all sit down, smile, and be together. However, it was also the one point when everybody was at their most tired, the weight of the men's labors and the creeping dusk starting to pull them down. As such, Calab found it strange the amount of energy everybody seemed to have that night.

Rain was working into her pickled turnip with her traditional lack of manners, semi-mashed white bits sticking to her face as she hummed audibly at the taste. Ellie's eyes where focused forward at her husband, filling up with a sort of depressed look. Rain was digging into her food without a care in the world, little pink bits occasionally exiting her mouth and landing on the table. Calab himself was cutting and chewing without any real thought, his mind elsewhere at the moment, still sailing the seas atop the great wave-cutter, _Red Reaver_. Finally, sitting there with his slab back and chiseled face, was his father, Harden, his mere presence almost a noise in a and of itself, chewing quickly and efficiently.

Then an off sided belched, thick with the scent of beer, reminded him that Trygrog was there too.

Everybody's position at the table bore a certain meaning, at least to him. His father had always been the basis of the family, its spearhead into the world; it was only fitting he took the head. He was a foreman now; having worked his way out of the sandy grit of a glass-blower's bellows to looking after five dozen men on the floor. Granted, he could be a little harsh at times, but all in all he treated his family and co-workers fairly… which was more than could be said for some of the others.

Trygrog had his spot too, though for a different reason. Stout and red, his belly starting to show a slight bulge from his age, Trygrog had lived in this place longer then they had by far. While he did make a fair bit, he was also a victim of the obsession dwarfishness tends to instill. However, unlike other dwarves, who were obsessed with forging or mining or other productive things, his penchant was for drink. He wasn't really a part of the family, but as long as he paid his rent at least half the time, he was welcome there.

" 'scuse me," Trygrog apologized with a deep accent, slightly slurred by the alcohol in his system. Nodding, he took a small swing from the metal flask in his grip… gutrot, no doubt. Of course, the rest of the family quickly let the situation slid, Calab waving the lingering scent away from his nose, trying to keep his eyes away from the dwarf's browned smile.

"So, how was the glass today father?" Calab inquired, his tone a little subdued.

Harden gave a little noise, something half a chuckle and half a snort, looking up with a beady set of pine green eyes. "Ask that first. Boys your age should be thinking about things other than work this time of night." Scraping up his last bit of food and literally swallowing it whole, though, he was quick to oblige. " Reggie dropped today, all the dust finally getting to him. Set him up on three days' rest, half pay." The sound of a mystic's firework shot off in the background… somebody was trying to dazzle a few gold out of the workers again. "Other than that, thing where pretty smooth. Above our quota for the week, that's for sure." The communal bottle of wine; poor but cheap, was soon in his hands, topping off his own flask. "But how about you honey? Everything went well on the home front?" Father's smile was always powerful, his teeth straight and strong, if a bit yellowed. He never did anything half-heartedly, note even smile.

Ellie focused in, as if snapped out of her sleep, before responding. "Oh, it went just fine. The corner market was selling quite cheaply. Kardia had a good crop this season, it seems."

" 'as been a wee mild fir winter," Trygrog interrupted, hiccupping just before the first word. " Course, you never could tell here, wha with all the smog." He took in a deep breath, coughing it out as if to exaggerate the point."

Silence feel for a few minutes then, as Ellie looked down into her food, looking a tad embarrassed. Harden shrugged, standing up and stretching his arms behind his back. Slowly, surely, the meal was returning to a sense of normality. That is, until his mother looked up once again, swift and curt, interrupting his little indulgence in the wine.

"By the way, darling," her voice was extra sweet as their eyes connected… never a good sign. He swallowed the mouthful he'd been swishing for a while, to savor the lightly fruity flavor. "Yes?" He asked, fiddling with the last of his food, annoyance probing at the back of his mind.

"Well, I don't mean to inconvenience you," her face had _Errand_ written all over it, causing him to mentally sigh, dejected. " It's just, you do know what tomorrow is, correct?"

One eye half-closing, he dug into his memory… it was so easy for him to lose track of the date, especially when he enjoyed his dreams so much. "Um…" She just kept looking at him, obviously refusing to let him get out, until he turned his head, Rain setting down her fork with a playful clang. Then, it struck him. "Maiden's day… right?" His voice certainly didn't sound sure, until he caught a little movement in her eye, telling him it was sound.

"Yes," she turned back to her food, as if it meant nothing. "And you do know how important this day is to your sister. She's just dying for a repeat of last year. And, well, I'm not allowed to attend, so I was wondering if perhaps."

He knew what she was going to ask; they went through this process every year. "The foreman already knows the drill, Mother," was his simple response. Maiden's day was so supposed to be a romantic holiday, to celebrate the purity of winter and the hope for spring, or some other such thing that hardly made sense since the factories came. Every maiden in the city was supposed to go out in pure white, giving away flowers to the local young men, in exchange for a kiss. Of course, there was a certain romance to it, and stories of couples meeting on this day abounded… alongside stories of bloody dresses. Fathers, mothers, and engaged person alike where bared from the festivities, though. That, and considering Rain's "Special Problem", he'd been escorting her for the past 5 years… all to little avail and more than one unsolicited kiss.

"Maiden's Day?" Rain perked up, suddenly excited. "I get to wear the white dress, right? Like the princess?" She gave a wide smile, giggling with glee in her chair. "Fun!"

His father and Trygon both gave loud, hardly laughs at that, almost shaking the walls with their combined jolliness. "Such a cute girl, big guy," Trygon lifted his flask to the air in a mock toast. "If only I where a hundred years younger."

"Oh, come on," Harden responded, slamming down on the table. "My little sugar isn't interested in grubby drinkers like you. A princess needs a prince in order to carry her away. Right?" He looked over at her, shaking his head lightly at the sweetness of it all.

"Ya," She leaned over, wiggling against Calab's side, causing him to shy away a bit. "My prince is right hear daddy." Her hair tickled a bit as it fell only his arms, smooth and soft. "When I grow up, we're gonna get married under a BIG tree. Right, Calab?" She looked up , eyes innocent.

Ignoring the scowl from his mother, he reached over and ran a hand through her hair, enough to get her to relax. "Of course, dear." He spoke quietly, trying to make it sound like a secret. "But it's supposed to be a surprise, remember?" She always got like this… but what could he expect?

"Right!" She looked up, shocked for having forgotten herself. "Where would I be witout you?" She stood up straight after that, lingering for only a brief moment, before going back to her food.

* * *

The rest of the night went by quickly.

After dinner, the family usually broke off to do their own things. His mother would sit down with her knitting; a pile of old cloths she bought at bargain always in need of touch-ups for her working men. The end of the center cot was usually taken up by his father, carving out interesting figures from blocks of wood when he wasn't handling work issues. Rain sat on the couch, drawing, for about an hour before receiving her kisses and sent off to bed, snuggled up under her thick blanket. Trygon would inevitably have taken to the streets, squandering what money he made on cards or more booze. And, like one might expect, Calab curled up with his books, continuing the grand adventures of The Horned Pirate.

 _The simple wonder of the Dragon shrine was not lost on the Captain, eyes gaze set on the aged marble. Yet, even that was nothing compared to the beast which stood before him, white and blue with wings fifty feet long, fangs glittering in the morning sun…_

Then, sounding through the room, where the bells of the town clock, ringing out the hour. First one gong, then two, again and again until it reached 11… and thus signaling the end of his reading. Slipping in the red ribbon which marked his place, Calab returned the book gently to its place, a small yawn escaping as he once again went through his routine. Apply tooth powder, strip cloths, turn off light, set self into cot. The surface was a little lumpy, as he turned himself slightly to get just that right spot, eyelids dropping as he worked for sleep to claim him. It was a little difficult; his father snored, after all, but finally, he could feel his mind slipping.

Now, the real fun could begin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chp. II: Dream's Awakening; Children of the Sand**

Tonight, the dreamscape welcomed him with a surprise.

Calab opened his eyes, but couldn't shake off the feeling something wasn't quite right. He looked this way and that, taking in the landscape around him, but wherever he looked everything was brown. It was different shades of brown, of course; the great rocky outcrops surrounding him were darker then the gritty dust that was billowing around his feet or the greenish-brown husks of some shriveled plant, but it was still, but it was still strange. His dreams were usually more… vivid then this, brighter; not like the bucket were his father scrapped all the excess filth from his beard into.

Another problem was with how COLD it was. Though he was wearing what seemed to be a cloak, the wind and dust still cut away at his legs, leaving him with a chilled and scrappy pain. He took a few steps towards the rock walls, but for some reason, his legs also felt wrong; weaker and harder to control. They lost traction almost immediately, leading him to stumble into a mouthful of the dust; coughing as some of the dry, grainy substance found its way down is throat. _Come on,_ he thought to himself, irksomely, as he pushed himself back onto his feet, using the wall for support. _This was not what I was hoping for._ Indeed, he was imagining something more along the lines of a tropical island, as he'd just been reading about one, but despite his thoughts, he couldn't seem to gather control, and the bleak lands remained.

Not wanting to risk falling over, Calab shuffled along the side of the wall, every part of him feeling unusually tired. The silence, the emptiness, part of him was too scared to break it. _If this isn't a dream_ he worried, keeping his face down so the hood protected it. _Then it has to be… a nightmare._

That realization was something he always dreaded, and soon his body was on red alert, muscles tightening as he took each step carefully, taking the stinging sand in his face so he could keep an eye out in front of him. Nightmares… they were the one thing he hated, more than anything else in the universe. This was because, to him, they always felt to real; and there was nothing you could do to stop them. His breathing became slightly labored as he focused on keeping calm, moving through a passage in the rock walls only to find himself in a place similar to before; brown. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted it; soft, purple glow, radiating from a pyramid of purple glass. "Finally, civilization." He breathed a sigh of relief before working his way over, stopping only to read the sign sitting next to it.

"Sol Terrano Desert. A harsh and unforgiving desert. The bleached white bones of many animals litter the landscape." He actually sounded intrigued, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Isn't that a brand of wine?" He was still scared, certainly… but now the unknown was gone, and after all, it wasn't as if he was in any real danger. So, taking advantage of new sturdiness of the soil, he started walking deeper into the desert.

His bravery was rewarded with a great splash of color; the setting sun dancing yellow and orange off the surface of a winding stream, grasses and threes shooting up around it. Sitting under the shade of one of these trees, he actually found this new place rather relaxing. _Harsh and unforgiving?_ He thought as he chuckled, pulling up his hood and leaning into the water to take a nice long gulp, the fresh drink washing the dry, sandy feeling from his throat. Almost without breathing, he took another, and another, savoring the clean, natural taste. It was almost as good as orange juice… almost.

By the time he pulled himself back up, his lower face was dripping with water, Calab pulling up the hem of his cloak to wipe it away. _Its so clean, I can practically see myself in it._ He thought as he dabbed the last of it off, waiting for the ripples to settle. When they did, he noticed two things, neither of which he was expecting.

Firstly, he spotted the reflection of somebody standing right behind him, looking down with a rather serious expression. It looked as though both of her eyes were drilling straight into the back of his head, with, her hair almost an exact clone in its seriousness and color. This was directly contrasted by the absolute superfliciousness of her umbrella, which she not only had faced away from the sun, but seemed to have caught a good deal of sand on the inside.

The second thing, which was arguably what caught most of his attention, was his face. It wasen't his eyes, or his nose, or his ears, or anything vital like that; he was still intact as he'd been before. Now, however, his forehead sported a short, ivory horn, about two inches in length, and a pair of golden gears etched on his cheeks. Faced with these surprises, Calab just keep looking down, not quite sure which of the two to react to first. Thankfully, the girl wasn't so indecisive. "You're quite normal. Are you human?" She questioned.

Calab spun himself around in his seat, looking up at his new guest. Now that he could see her whole body, she sort of reminded him of the daughters of the owners and high management staff; despite the fact he'd only seen them at festivals. Here cloths were trimmed, elegant, and matched the colors of her eyes. She even carried herself with the same stiff back. "I think so." He responded matter-of-factly, though it didn't sound as sure as he'd thought it should."

The girl blinked once, before taking a single step back, giving Calab room to stand up. Of course, doing that made her step away again, keeping a distance he was unused to. "How normal. I thought they came out this far." She seemed a little offset, but Calab just gave a somewhat confused look. Everything she was saying was so… obvious. Was she stupid, or sheltered, or what? The akward silence held as he though through this, searching for exactly the right words.

His mouth opened, just about to give his name, when he was suddenly drowned out by a loud crash, a sphere of ice shattering against the tree trunk behind him… wait, ice chunk? His confusion only deepened as he look first at the trunk, then the girl, whose face was suddenly much, much tighter, and then at the ice. He took a step away from the line of fire, one of the ice shards cracking under his boot. "Leave this place, Hornless slime!" He heard another voice shoat from the side. Though he didn't know it, he certainly recognized the term; The Horned Pirate used it quite often when he was angry. Another sphere of ice broke, this time close enough that the girl couldn't quite leap out of the way, some of the chunks batter her face, before she dashed off, Calab breathing a huge sigh of relief as the awkwardness was suddenly gone.

However, it was not to be so for long, as he quickly saw another figure moving towards him; holding an ice-blue staff. Her robe covered most of her body, teal and blue-tinted white patterns with yellow trim, silver-blonde hair giving her an even greater nobility then the first girl. She too had a horn on her head, though hers was certainly large, and a red flame tattoo licking up from both sides of her chin, breathing heavy as she walked over as best she could.

"Careful, comrade!" She gave a concerned smile as she drew closer to him, resting herself on her staff. "That savage didn't harm you, did she?"

And there it was again; confusion. Calab really couldn't get a grasp on how all of this was happening. "Um, no." He tried to sound confident, but the stress he was feeling clearly didn't help.

"You were lucky," the woman responded, utterly serious. "Even if they look harmless, you must never trust a Hornless. They think nothing of theft or violence." Her eyes, crystal blue, gave him a hard look, before staring him straight in the face, her worry now tinted with a bit of cold anger. "Humiliation or Conquest?"

He wasn't really fazed by her demand for an answer; but as he opened his mouth, he realized he wasn't sure what the question was. "Excuse me?" He asked, quite innocently, rubbing his temple as his poor brain tried to apply any rhyme or reason.

His confusion really diden't seem to affect her much, and she was quick to answer again, letting out a breath and repeating herself in a more dignified way. "Humiliation or Conquest? A filthying to our blood or a boon to theirs'?" Now she was the one who thought she was being obvious, and he was the strange one.

Of course, only one sounded good, and so, tired as he was, Calab gave it. "I'm a Conquest." He informed her, starting to get a headache. "A very, very lost Conquest." At that word, the Univir's face lite up, losing her composure as she threw herself onto him, Calab standing dumbfound in surprise. "Thank goodness, comrade…" he felt a wetness on his shoulder, though her voice rang with happiness. "I had not heard from our breatherin in so long, I had thought we were…" she diden't finish the sentence, gasping before quickly pulling herself off, hurriedly straightening her robe and wiping something from her eye. "My apologies." She sounded flustered, but still upbeat. "You must come with me to the settlement immediately. You are of vital importance to the cause!" She hurried off, as fast as her legs could carry her, into the desert, gesturing with her staff to follow.

* * *

During the last what-felt-like-two-hours or so, Calab had come to a number of conclusions.

Cheif among them was not to eat so much pickled food before bed, because even here his stomach was sitting like a dry rock, but that wasn't immediately relivent, as he stumbled to his right in order to avoid the still-lethal point of and old dagger that was shooting through the air, compliments of one of the many goblins he'd run into while following his guide. What was important was that every living thing in the desert was trying to kill him, including some of the fruit. That, along with the fact that when he tried to move too quickly, the sand wouldn't hold and he'd end up flailing for balance, meant that this certainly wasn't a pleasant dream.

The goblin, face shaded by the worn beige head cloth already had another dagger in his hands by the time Calab and taken another step, trying to keep an eye on all three of their assailants at once. One of them was like the one he was facing now, and waiting warrily along the rock walls, trying to get a clear shot at the horned girl, who had another goblin, this one wearing white and blue stripes and holding a chipped saber, finding his head on the wrong end of her staff, a small burst of white accompanying the thump of impact. Soon, another knife was heading in his direction, which he could feel flying just past his cheek as he did a clumsy side-step, this flowing, rust-red cloak constantly folding up against him.

Free for a brief moment, he checked on his univir companion, taking the risk of hustling a bit closer to her. The ice was condensing out of nowhere at the end of her staff, building almost faster then one could see it and immediately hurling through the air, bursting into shards as it shattered on the stunned goblin's chest. Then, in a puff of white light, he was gone; cloths, weapon, and all. Calab had to blink to make sure he wasn't just seeing things, but the only remaining trace of their foe was his footprints in the sand, which the desert wind was quick to wipe way as well. He was so distracted that he diden't even notice his goblin still had more ammunition on him, until the thankfully misaimmed projectile clinked into the stone walls behind him.

Soon, however, it was over; his guide tossed out two more spells at the remaining goblins, and they too vaporized, leaving behind only small bottles of cooking oil. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he was finally able to stand still, the water having long since left his throat. The girl took a moment to relax, free to use her staff for support. "Hold out a bit longer, comrade." She pointed to a rise with her left hand, in another canyon. "Our home lies just a bit farther." Of course, she didn't seem nearly as tired as he was, her front as sturdy as ever, awaiting his response.

"Alright," Calab was surprised at how raspy his voice was getting, giving her a thumbs up as he followed her. For a nightmare, this wasn't turning out so bad; it'd been a bit tiring, sure, but nothing like he'd been worrying about earlier. Especially since he had this girl here to makes sure nothing too bad happened. Which made him wonder...

"Do you have a name?" He asked, trying not to speak to much as every syllable felt like a light scratch on his throat.

She answered without looking, wary of the wind that was blowing at both their backs. "I am Kuruna, elder of our proud settlement." Calab's eye arched slightly quizzically she hardly looked to be an elder. She couldn't have been a day over 30, at worst. However, he didn't have time to press the point, as they reached the top of the rise, and as the walls opened in front of him, he could see the something that distinctly smelled of civilization. A pair of tents, made of tan fabric and decorated with red and green patterns, flanked the canyon exit. Looking between them, one could see a larger tent; a dark with a trim not dissimilar to his cloak, and a large orange owl perched on the framing. Over the little whistle of the wind as it blew through the entrance, he could hear chattering and murmurs of several different tones, coming from the number of creatures that wandered around the oasis. Woolies, goblins; even a fairy fluttered in front of his face. In one corner, a small pool allowed some greenery to grow, giving the place a bit of natural color... and attracting attention back to his thirst. Calab looked it over as Kuruna lead him down the pass, finally stopping just at the edge of the tents. "Welcome of Univir Settlement," She said proudly, standing between him and the large tent.

He paused for a moment, making sure he didn't miss anything. "Is this all?" There was a massive stone gate blocking off another area, behind the main tent, but she clearly wasn't making any effort to direct him to it. It just seemed so dinky... this couldn't be an entire village, could it?

Something flared in Kuruna's eyes, but it was quickly shoved back down, the elder clearing her throat. "It may be small, comrade, but do not be fooled. This settlement is a masterpiece of our advanced ancestors, a bastion of true civilization. Far beyond the keen of the primitive Hornless minds." She gave a light sigh as she shifted, several of the monsters taking notice as they passed, looking curiously before turning back to their own duties. "Though compared to our ancient cities, it is but a pathetic shadow. Perhaps..." her face lit with out, Calab pulling his neck back a bit at the sudden change.

"Kuruna?" Another voice, deeper and more rumbling, interrupted from the left. From the corner of his eyes, Calab could see the heavy flaps shift from the tent there, another univir emerging. What stood out most about him was the purple; his hair was a straight lavender, his cloak a long and royal purple; with a decoration of his shoulders that looked distinctly military. He wore spectacles similar to Kuruna's, behind which sat even more purple. The only thing that wasn't purple was his tie, who's red stood as the one splash of color. As he stood there, something else darted from the tent; the heavy scent of turnips hitting his nose as the red streak circled Kuruna's neck, finally stopping just above her shoulder and floating there. Its beady little eyes looking straight at him.

" **HI!** " It screamed out suddenly, the sound beating against Calab's ears. Whatever it was, its voice could certainly get on somebody's nerves very, very fast. " **WHO YOU**?"

Calab, momentary stunned by the sheer volume, tried to answer, but was undercut by the second univir, who was straightening out his hair with his hands as he approached them. "I agree with Will, Kuruna. Aren't you going to introduce us to our guest?"

This time, though, Calab was quicker, and gave a polite bow of his head. "My name is Calab. Pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand to shake, only to find the male univir looking down curiously at his forehead, and the little ivory shard that stuck there.

"Elder," the male looked away from him without even a response, speaking to Kuruna with a worried face. "I intend no disrespect, but are you quiet certain this child is..."

"Of honorable conquests, Ondorus," Kuruna finished for him, sounding slightly peterved. "His father had him marked." Her fingers pointed to his face, and the gears etched upon it. There seemed to be a brief stare down between the two, before the male (Ondorus, apparently , backed down, Calab breathing a mental sigh of relief as the tensions broke. "He was lost at the edges of our desert, under attack by the vicious Hornless princess." Though vicious wasn't the word Calab would have described her with, he kept his mouth shut and listened; the pair of them certainly were working through this with a strange calm.

"He is quiet fortunate then," Ondorus answered, finally reaching down and taking Calab's hand, shaking it firmly once before letting go. "I am Ondorus. I apologize for my quick judgement earlier." Calab responded with a smile, and finally, he had a solid grasp on what was going on. His subconscious was certainly working on overdrive tonight if it could create such a wondrous setting.

"I understand you must be tired, comrade," Kuruna told him apologetically. "No journey though the Hornless lands could have been pleasant for you. But, if you would bear with us a moment longer." She looked down as the tiny ball of fire at her shoulder. "Will, I want you to supervise Zaid. Make sure he cleans his room like he promised alright?" The ball looked up, Calab preliminary placing his hands over his ears for the response.

" **WILL WILL DO!** " The ball screamed as it flew into the tend on the right. Unfortunatly, the hands hadn't helped much, and Calab's head was still beating when Kuruna adressed him, her voice sounding a bit dimmer to his strained eardrums. "Would the two of your come to my tent?" Kuruna asked, gesturing with her staff before walking to the large tent. Calab followed by Ondorus, the comparison making it clear he was nearly half a foot shorter here. He let Ondorus into the tent first, stepping in to be welcomed by thick rugs, the gentle warmth of braziers, and a grand seat, polished and carved in an intricate pattern, which Kuruna was kneeled next to, hoisting up what appeared to be a thick book, the inner pages visibly yellowing, in direct constast to the colored leather and metal bindings of the outside. He and Ondorus waited politely for her to pick it up, gently placing it down on the table and looking at him happily for a moment, before straightening her face and beginning to speak.

"We're quite glad you've come to join us, comrade." Kuruna complimented, steepling her hands at her chest. "It may be difficult for you to understand, but your mere presence here is something I could only dare to wish for." Ondorus nodded sollumly in agreement, that faint sound of a loud groan breaking the tent walls. "I trust your father taught you of our people's works?"

"Somewhat," Calab responded truthfully; after all, it was his father who'd bought a number of his books. "Legends and stories, mostly. Very powerful and inspiring works." Kuruna's face visibly dropped there, however, as she spread her hand over the cover of her book, the title carved into the cover in a runic script, some vaguely resembling Sech letters but nothing he could read.

"So he didn't want you to know... fair enough." Kuruna's voice had a edge of it. "Its not as if the animals would admit to it anyways. They're always so keen to forget the past. Not like us." She was looking him right in the eyes; a gaze which could pierce souls. "This tome contains but a snippet of our proud history, a general record of our long and illustrious reign. We have it so each and every member of our people will know where they come from, the greatness of our blood. There are many chapters within, but..." She flipped though the book, showing many pages that had once been white, until, nearing the back, she came upon one that was dark as night, the writing on it written in something that looked sickeningly like blood, the script sloppy and scattered. "I want you take this. Read that chapter, and you will understand." She pushed it across the table, Calab's hands reaching out to take it. It felt sturdy; old, but together. He looked down at the cover, pretending he could read the lettering, before a huge yawn escaped his throat.

"Thanks," he told her, giving a tired smile. "But, perhaps, could I sleep first? Its just..."

"No need, Comrade," Kuruna gave an understanding nod, walking over to a pile of fabric in the corner and piling up several rugs in the opposite corner as her own sleeping mat. " I understand fully. You need not over strain yourself." Ondorus placed a larger, thinner white fabric over the rungs, Kuruna walking over to the opposite side and extinguishing the braziers, the only light left in the room that little which sank in through the thick tent cloth. Calab was drawn to the soft pile like a moth to fire, flopping down on it and twirling the fabric around him, creating a cozy covering and, and his horn pressed into the weeve, smiled.

"Thank you." He told them as they let in the last bit of light through the flaps as the exited, leaving him be. He truely did feel tired, and soon he was drifting away, a soft choir of bells pulling him down.


End file.
